by Ken Spargo
‘If a Twixer takes over the life form of another then that life form ceases to exist. The real Poiksy is nothing but a memory.’
‘Is a memory something that flashes into my head from somewhere else?’
‘No. It is a thing that you have experienced regardless of the time you have already lived. We all have memories, but we don’t always recall them to mean anything.’
Grunt quashed a few thoughts of his own. ‘A true Twixer is too devious to be caught.’
‘Why are we able to walk to the king’s home without obstruction?’ asked a curious Grunt. He had been holding the necklace. It tingled again at the Twixer thought.
‘Free passage has been granted because of your group. Such unusual life forms have to be personally inspected by the king. Those two giant, feathered life forms have already advised him of your existence. His curiosity seized his better judgement.’
‘Aren’t you pleased to visit your king?’
‘All life forms obey the rules. Enough of this, let’s walk.’
The valley where King Iglandus resided was rich with life. It was enclosed by a high security fence, which was either to keep him safe or intruders out. As a ruler, there was always the inherent risk of assassination. As they approached the gates, a low moan echoed around the valley.
‘What’s that terrible noise?’ asked Davidia.
‘It’s the Iglood greeting horn, which announces any arrival at the front entrance.’
‘Where did it come from? I can’t see anyone.’
‘Batbit, do a quick flyover,’ requested Grunt.
The small, missile-like snack whooshed over the wall. A large net, seemingly from nowhere, shot into the air and entrapped him. His sharp, spiky teeth weren’t strong enough to chew his way to freedom. The net with him in it fell to the ground. No one was injured. His struggle was in vain, but a huge hand gently picked him up. It turned him over. It provided no threat.
The front gate opened automatically.
‘Identify yourself,’ said a loud voice.
‘I’m Prongsy, in the king’s service.’
‘I’m Davidia, in no one’s service.’
‘I’m Grunt, at the service of good.’
‘Is this black life form with you?’
‘That’s Batbit, a friend of ours.’
‘Next time, be aware that it’s dangerous to snoop. What’s your business here?’
‘They have been summoned to King Iglandus,’ answered Prongsy, appearing slightly nervous. Grunt sensed a constriction in his vocal chords as he expelled his words. He wondered why?
‘Is your name Igloo?’ Grunt’s question surprised everyone.
‘What sort of silly name is that?’ Davidia was amused.
From behind the wall out stepped a huge mountain of a beast, taller than all of them.
‘Who told you? Prongsy, have you been opening your word gapper again?’
‘Me? How could I? I don’t know your personal name,’ Prongsy indignantly replied.
‘Yes, you do,’ said Grunt, incensed for some unknown reason. ‘You called him that on many occasions when play was allowed inside the walls.’
‘I did not. Playing inside the walls has been banned for a long time.’
‘Remember that pet name you called a young life form.’
‘This is ridiculous ranting. I have no idea what this life form is on about. The sooner I get him to King Iglandus the better for all.’
‘Prongsy, answer the question,’ demanded the tall life form. ‘His pet name is …’
Prongsy knew he was standing on spongy toast – one slip and breakfast was over.
‘It was Iggy.’
‘Try again.’
‘It was Ignam.’
‘Once more.’
‘It was Ian.’
‘You really have no idea at all, do you?’
‘I told you so. Now let us pass. The king will be angry if we are too late.’
‘There’s no hurry.’
‘Prongsy, how is it you don’t remember? The real Prongsy was a guardian over a small life form. His pet name was Ignus.’
Igloo was stunned. How did this strange life form know so much from the past? He had been correct with the names.
‘How do you know this?’ The tall Igloo needed to know.
‘I don’t know. I was holding my necklace when a flood of thoughts crept into my mind and that’s how they came out. Weird, isn’t it?’
‘Have you ever been to this valley before?’
‘Not that I can remember.’
‘Let’s move,’ hustled Prongsy.
‘There’s one more question I want to ask to prove that you are the real Prongsy,’ said Grunt. ‘Say the Igloodian alphabet backwards.’
Prongsy had no idea at all. He stammered a few sounds and syllables, not in Igloodian, but in Irridion.
‘You can’t be the real Prongsy. Who are you?’
Prongsy raised his pronger and threw it with ferocity at Grunt. Fortunately, Igloo was endowed with special powers and caught it exactly at the moment penetration began. He turned the pronger around and redirected it at Prongsy. It hit the mark. Suddenly an evil snarl emanated from beneath all that fur. Another evil Irrid lurked beneath the covering as his outer opened up. Soon he was another bad memory.
‘Mr Grunt, I don’t like this,’ said Davidia becoming upset. ‘At home this only happened in video games. My brother Dan used to tell me all the figures were make-believe digital dots. I’m not in a video game, am I?’
‘Davidia, you are safe now from all those digital dots.’ Grunt had no idea what he was saying, but it calmed her.
‘What exactly are you?’ asked Igloo, unaware that Grunt was one of them, but in a different body.
‘I’m an Igloid.’
Igloo laughed as he shook his head. Humour wasn’t a part of his normal demeanour, but for some unknown reason it had been triggered again. It felt good to laugh and smile.
‘Follow me.’
‘He’s tall, Mr Grunt. My dad has a ladder that high. Sometimes he lets me climb it. It’s a long way to the top, isn’t it?’
Batbit was still netted. He was being carried up. The gates closed. They couldn’t see any Igloods because they were usually invisible, a trait that Grunt possessed, but only in short spurts. His memory was generating a familiarity with the landscape, which he didn’t yet fully understand. He felt he was a part of something, but what?
They trekked up a long pathway to the base of a huge tree. It was so huge that it took ten adult life forms holding hands together in a “hug me” position, to span its circumference. It was up against a rock formation, which seemed to go on forever. Igloo tapped a few times and slowly a door opened. They entered through the tree, then another door inside the rocks. Grunt felt at home as if he had come back to the Rock of Yocklaw once again. The interior hallways were rather plain, clean and symmetrically perfect. This was the home of King Iglandus, which he shared with the ancient Igloodian life forms that he was leader of. The ancient Igloodians had ruled the Valley of Triplock for a long time. The valley was healthy, its inhabitants were friendly and life was a well-mannered, pleasant experience. Nothing had ever had the audacity or strength to attack their valley before, but King Iglandus knew the time for conflict was near. With all his powers, he couldn’t stop the forces of evil. He knew this time that the valley would have to defend itself. Would all goodness disappear forever? He was formalising defence plans when Grunt, Davidia and Batbit were introduced to him.
‘This intrusion better be worthwhile. My late-day food intake is about to commence. What have you brought to me?’ King Iglandus was thinking of defensive issues.
‘Your Regalness, these three strange life forms have made it through the Valley of Irridon alive, so they say,’ said Igloo.
‘Impossible. Nothing that has entered there has ever survived. Who dares to treat me as a fool? You there, with the round shape, what say you?’
Grunt eyed the king very carefully. He saw a
tall, statuesque life form and looked older than anything else he had seen. It was an ancient of some sort. It had long flowing hair, legs as tall as a chimney, muscular arms – but only two – and the craggy features of a rocky outcrop. The deep blue eyes told a truth in its depths.
‘Speak plainly when addressing the king,’ said Igloo, observing protocol.
‘Sir, it’s true that we have made it safely through the Valley of Irridon. The ground and plants made it possible for us.’
‘Who and what are you?’
‘This is Davidia, a young girl life form; this is Batbit, a bat life form; and I am an Igloid.’
‘That’s preposterous. Imitating an Igloid means destruction for you. You don’t look like one of us. How is this so?’
‘I have always believed that I am an Igloid. I don’t know any other name for me. My memory tells me I am one. I don’t know why,’ explained Grunt.
‘Where have you come from?’
‘Far away, from a valley that was overtaken by an evil mist, which I eradicated.’
‘This evil you speak of, how did it arrive?’
‘It appeared from nowhere in the atmosphere. It covered all the landscape with ice, freezing moisture.’
‘Mmm. That seems to be a pattern. How did you get here? Who led you to this valley?’
Davidia had been quietly listening, but a precocious young girl can’t stay silent forever.
‘I did, Mr King,’ she said proudly.
The king turned toward her.
‘Come, come. A small thing like you did this, you say?’
‘Yes. I pressed some ejector stones and we flew though the darkness.’
At the mention of the ejector stones, the king stiffened. He leant forward to scrutinise more closely the small life form.
‘And where were these ejector stones?’
‘In a wall, in a tunnel. I accidentally fell on them. Mr Grunt got angry as we didn’t know where it tossed us.’
The king thought for a moment. His heart rate had hit the top of the danger scale. Did he dare to believe?
‘You called him Grunt. Is that what you are called?’ the king directed the question directly at Grunt.
‘That is what I am called.’
‘This valley you speak of, does it have a name?’
‘It’s the Valley of Preciousness. I was its guardian from inside the Rock of Yocklaw. I have protected the valley for a long time.’
‘So you have,’ mumbled the king.
Is it possible that this hideous life form was once … ? The king shook his head. He looked at the throwback in front of him; was it possible that it might be his banished son, Ignatus, who had been banned long ago by evil forces?
Many eons ago, King Iglandus was partnered to Queen Irridia and they had one son called Ignatus. Life in the valley was happy then. Life forms, Igloids and Igloodians enjoyed harmony with their neighbouring valleys. It all changed during the dark of the Great Split. Quietly and insidiously that dark, an evil demon known as The Murmur slipped unnoticed into the Valley of Triplock. Queen Irridia was walking outside the safety of the palace walls when they met. The Murmur whispered that ideas of grandeur and absolute control could only be gained by being infected with evil. The Murmur somehow knew of the power struggle between the king and queen over how Ignatus should be raised. It knew that to gain control of the valley, Queen Irridia had to be swayed to embrace its evil demons. It also knew that King Iglandus would never give up the valley to evil, so a new valley had to be set up, the Valley of Irridon and that they would have to bide their time. Queen Irridia was incensed that the young Ignatus would rule the valley after the king’s passing or right of passage, whichever occurred first, when she believed that right should pass to her. She couldn’t risk direct confrontation with the king, so that dark she left the palace to pursue her own selfish and powerful goals. She wanted to rule a valley in her own right. In doing so, she encouraged Ignatus to meet her outside the palace walls under the pretence of telling him a special secret. The Murmur then kidnapped him. He was taken to Irridon and visited the Cave of Murm where The Murmur lived. A special banishment spell was cast on Ignatus, never to return. The Queen, probably now ex Queen Irridia, had rid herself of any competition for the top spot. Her actions had left her short of followers, but in time her evil force, with the guidance of The Murmur, would gain sufficient strength to overthrow the Valley of Triplock, which was the prized valley at the time. Ignatus hadn’t grown old enough to be immune from banishment as he hadn’t reached the age of “no effect” where an Igloid becomes an Iglood. King Iglandus heard of the disappearance of his son and sent emissaries everywhere to locate him. Twit and Twirp found him near the Cave of Murm and reported it to the king. In haste he sent them back with a powerful tool in the form of a necklace in a battered tin. They were instructed to place it in his son’s clothing, which miraculously they did at great risk to their own feathers. Ignatus was outside the Cave of Murm when the two feathered friends located him. They quickly tucked the tin inside his pants and escaped with their existence. Shortly thereafter, he was banished elsewhere in an unrecognisable form. No one knew where. The king was devastated at the loss. Irridia smiled a revengeful smile of satisfaction. She had taught the king a lesson that she should be the rightful ruler and not their son. Ignatus was banished with loss of memory, so that he could never become a future threat. Smug satisfaction grew across Irridia’s face. Together with The Murmur, they plotted the future downfall of King Iglandus. The time of the Great Split the dark cast doom everywhere, except in the Valley of Triplock. It had been too powerful to fall under the spell of evil. However, it was nearing time where this would not be so. Only the return of Ignatus would stem the tide of evil. Irridia had ensured that it was never going to happen. She had made a complete success of evil. The necklace that Ignatus was banished with, known only to the king, was the only window of salvation and the path back to the past, if it was ever found. It seemed that evil would win over good.
Davidia had unknowingly opened up the path to the past by discovering the necklace in the battered tin and accidentally pushing the ejector stones. Fate had another exercise in store for Grunt.
‘May I see the necklace that you speak of?’ The king knew that if it was what he thought it was, he had found his long lost son. It would be a defining moment for the valley and his kingdom, if it were true.
Grunt slowly took the necklace off and showed it to the king. His eyes lit up instantly like a flare, with instant recognition. He couldn’t believe his eyes. This was the necklace that he had sent to Ignatus all that time ago. Could this life form actually be him? The king’s head pounded heavily. ‘I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it,’ he kept repeating to himself.
‘Where did you get this necklace? Did you steal it or did something give it to you?’
‘Mr King, I found that necklace in a small tin hidden in a cave wall, just as I have already told you. My mum always taught me to tell the truth. Mr Grunt has taken us through many valleys to be here,’ expressed Davidia.
‘I want to be sure what you tell me is correct. The future of Triplock may depend upon it. The wearer of this necklace, if it be true, is my son.’
The revelation hit like a thunderbolt. Grunt fell to the floor in shock. He had found his daddy. The pain of relief and disbelief oozed out of his every pore. After the initial shock he regained his composure.
‘Is that correct? Could I be your son? I don’t look anything like you, though. It can’t be true, can it?’ Grunt was suffering from an emotional upheaval and the shock of an instant family.
‘It is true. You are an indifferent looking life form, but banishment can do that to you. It’s obvious it was meant that you would never really discover who you are. Do you have any memories of the past?’
‘Very few. Sometimes things fade in and out without making any real sense.’
‘This necklace was sent to protect the wearer and provide a pathway back to its past if it
was ever discovered. However, before the wearer, which is you, could have succeeded in this quest, it was necessary to experience what evil can do. It is called character building. It was also in preparation for the real quest that you had to undertake; the destruction of the evil within the Valley of Irridon and its return to peace and harmony. It was an extremely difficult task. Impossible, some would say. The danger is that valley is everywhere. Only a true Iglood can combat such evil. You are not that Iglood in your present shape,’ explained King Iglandus
‘I remember that the Waterfall of Wetness is important and that if I were to enter the Valley of Irridon, then that is the chosen path. I don’t know why,’ said Grunt.
‘There is no running flow to cleanse you so that path is unavailable.’
‘That imposter, Prongsy, said that running flow was needed to release the flow in the Waterfall of Wetness. Davidia possesses that running flow. I’ve seen it. Is it important?’
King Iglandus sighed a “waste of time” sigh and smiled sympathetically at Grunt. He thought that it was inconceivable that Davidia’s small frame could possess such important wet matter. Were they humouring him? Mmm.
‘It is said that wet matter is required to recommence the running flows again, which once made the valley more fertile, but alas, there hasn’t been any flow since the Great Split. There is none to be found,’ said King Iglandus.
‘Mr Grunt is right. I do have running flow, but they are called tears. Would you like to see them?’ said Davidia. ‘I have to feel sad or hurt for them to occur.’
The king was astonished at the impertinence and confidence from such a life form.
‘Please show me your wet matter,’ requested the disbelieving king.
Batbit suddenly dug his claws into Davidia’s shoulders much harder than usual. The suddenness of the pain made her cry. Batbit felt awful that he had hurt his friend, but the surprise pain would increase the potency of the tears. Davidia’s eyes welled up into two small pools of moisture. Gravity gave them a boost by forcing them downwards. Grunt cupped two of his many hands to catch the precious moisture. The king sat down dumbfounded.
‘Well, I never,’ gurgled from his throat. ‘Save it, please.’
